Five Times John Realized Dean was a Better Parent
by film princess
Summary: John was always a good soldier, but rarely a good dad. Luckily for him, he had Dean to pick up the slack. John reflects back on five instances where Dean proved to be the better parent of the two of them.
1. The First Time

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.

Summary: John was always a good soldier, but rarely a good dad. Luckily for him, he had Dean to pick up the slack. John reflects back on five instances where Dean proved to be the better parent of the two of them.

Tag to Dead Man's Blood but no actual spoilers.

John sat in silent vigil over his boys as they slept, knowing they would need the rest more than he would for their upcoming face-off with the vampires. The silence of the night stretched on, broken only by the occasional soft snores emanating from the beds.

He couldn't get over how quickly the boys had grown. It seemed like just yesterday they were bickering in the back seat and playing with army men. He had missed so much over the last twenty-two years, and he knew he only had himself to blame.

After Mary died, John was absent in more ways than one when it came to his children. He needed the time to pull himself back together again without the crying, nagging, and constant questions centering around when mommy would be coming back.

So when the pressure of being a father got to be too much, he would pawn his boys off to the nearest hunter he could trust and hit the road, looking for the biggest local baddie he could vent his frustrations on.

What he didn't realize at the time was that Dean had taken up his role as guardian and protector of little Sammy, even at the tender age of four. It was a weight he never should have dropped on his eldest, but the boy never complained. Not even once.

On the nights when John stumbled home after a late night at the bar, Dean would have fed his little brother, changed him, and had him sleeping peacefully in a cocoon of pillows on one of the motel room beds.

If John's stumbling about woke the baby, Dean would immediately be by his side, rocking Sammy in his skinny little arms and singing "Hey, Jude" to him until he fell back to sleep, just like Mary used to do.

As the boys aged, Dean would be the one to take Sam to school, to pack his lunch with the meager contents John had left for them, and to help Sam do his homework before dinner.

John taught Sam how to hold a rifle properly when he was of age; Dean taught him about girls. John made him memorize how to salt and burn a corpse, but Dean helped him learn to read and write. Hell, Sam's first word was "Deanie."

Sam was quickly becoming more dependent on his older brother as time passed and John encouraged it, knowing Dean would always be there for the kid even if John couldn't be. It was years later before John realized how dependent Dean was becoming on his little brother in return, not letting him out of his sight wherever possible and always rushing to his aid the second Sammy gave him that puppy dog look.

John knew his eldest would do or give anything to keep his little brother happy and healthy, including his own life. It took twenty-two years for him to realize that by placing that bundle of blankets into Dean's small arms the night Mary died, he had practically signed Dean's death sentence.

The demons would never stop going after Sammy, and Dean would never stop putting himself in the middle. It was second nature to the kid. He even protected Sam from John when the situation called for it. John could already tell Sam still had the ability to get his blood pressure up by questioning authority and pushing his buttons, and he knew poor Dean would be forced to play mediator again soon enough.

As much as he loved his boys and wanted to keep them safe, John knew he wouldn't always be there to protect them and that if it came down to the world or his sons, he would be forced to put the world first. The fate of the many, as the saying goes. That was the job. But Dean, that boy would gladly watch the world burn so long as Sammy was by his side and all three Winchesters knew it.

Now that his boys were all grown up and the small family was reunited under the same motel roof for the first time in years, John began to reflect back on the slap-in-the-face moments where he realized Dean was a better father to Sam than John could ever have aspired to be.

The first instance that came to mind was when Sammy was five and had a terrible nightmare. Dean had stepped out to hit the vending machines so John moved in to wake his youngest up.

"Hey, Sammy," he said softly, jostling Sam's shoulder gently. "Wake up, kiddo."

Sam came awake with a yell and nearly toppled off the other side of the bed. John instinctively reached out and grasped his boy's arm to prevent him from falling, but the kid threw a hissy fit at the unexpected contact.

"Lemme go! Want Deanie!"

"Calm down, Sam. Dean went out to get some food but he'll be right back."

Far from calming the child's nerves, Sam's panic skyrocketed when he realized that his brother wasn't even in the room anymore. His struggling increased exponentially.

"Lemme go! Lemme go! Lemme go! Want Deanie!"

"Sam, stop it! You're gonna hurt yourself!" _How long has Dean been gone?_ _He must be on his way back by now, right?_

John felt _himself_ starting to panic. He had no idea how to control his child in this state. Dean never caused such a fuss and listened to orders immediately, but Sam… Sam was a different story all together.

He was just debating on giving his eldest a call so Sam could at least hear his voice when Sam wrenched his arm free and tumbled to the floor with a yelp. _Crap!_

"Sam! Sam, you alright?"

Big tears were starting to make their way down the little boy's cheeks as he glared accusingly up at his father. "You're mean! I want my brother!"

Decision made, John pulled his cell from his back pocket and hit speed dial one. Though the phone only rang twice, it felt like an eternity before Dean picked it up as Sam began wailing on the floor, loud enough to draw attention if anyone walked by.

"_Dad?"_

"Dean! Finally! You need to get back to the room, now."

Dean could clearly hear the anxiety and frustration in his father's voice, not to mention his brother screaming bloody murder in the background. _"What's goin' on?"_ he demanded.

"Your brother had a nightmare…"

"You didn't touch him, did you? You have to talk him back to consciousness, Dad. Any contact will just spook 'im."

Now you tell me… John thought to himself in exasperation.

"Yeah, I've noticed. Too late to take it back now though. Sam's pitchin' a fit and no doubt drawin' a crowd. I can't get the kid to calm down!"

Dean sighed. _"Give him some space or you'll just make it worse. Put him on the phone."_

John immediately held the phone out to his youngest, desperate enough to try anything at this point. "Dean's on the phone, Sam. Take it."

Sam's arm snapped up and had the phone before John could blink twice. Damn, the kid had amazing reflexes when he wanted them… "Deanie?"

"_Hey, kiddo. You alright?"_

"I had a b-bad d-dream," Sam sniffled, his breath hitching as he tried to calm himself enough to talk.

"Okay, buddy. I need you to calm down and be a big boy for Daddy, alright? Can you do that for me?"

Sam glanced up at John through his floppy bangs, considering his brother's request, then he wiped his face dry on his sleeve and nodded. "Yeah."

"That's my boy. I'm on my way back now and I've got some Twizzlers for you. Will that make it all better?"

Sam nodded again as if Dean could see him through the phone and whimpered out another pitiful sounding, "Yeah."

John's jaw literally dropped in awe at the power his eldest commanded. He would be a terrific leader when he was older and no mistake.

"Sit tight and I'll see you in a sec."

Sam silently held the phone out to John who took it tentatively, afraid his youngest would start balling again once the connection had ended. But to his utter amazement, Sam pushed himself to his feet, sat on the edge of his bed, and waited patiently for the door to open.

When it did, Sam bounded off the bed and practically tackled his brother around the waist.

"Oof! Hey, kiddo…" Dean managed to keep his feet but dropped the candy on the floor in favor of returning his brother's hug, though not quite at the same bone-crushing intensity. "You alright?" he asked softly, rubbing his hand in soothing circles over Sam's back.

"I dreamed that a mean man with lellowy eyes was tryin' to take me away."

Dean locked gazes with John, a moment of understanding passing between them in silence. "That one again, huh?" Dean asked, then eased his brother away till they were at arm's length so he could crouch down to Sam's height. "What did I tell you last time? Do you remember?"

Sam nodded. "I 'member. You said Deanie would never let that happen and that you'd give him two black eyes instead of lellow if he even tried."

John snorted and felt himself relaxing as the tension drained from the air.

Dean smirked, ruffling Sammy's already messy hair. "Damn straight, little brother. And don't you forget it."

Sam pushed Dean's hand away from his hair with a giggle and as his head tilted down, his eyes caught sight of the snacks on the floor. He dove for the Twizzlers and held them expectantly in front of him.

John thought he was just holding it up as a trophy but Dean took the package without a word, opened it, and gave his brother one piece of licorice. _Oh… Didn't think of that._

"Aww, _Dean_…" Sam whined, gazing wistfully at the rest of the package that remained in Dean's hand.

"Just one for tonight, buddy. You know you're a Tasmanian Devil when you have sugar, and it's way past your bed time."

"O-_kay_…"

Half an hour later and Sam was curled up next to his brother on their bed, breathing deeply as Dean flipped through the TV channels, looking for something interesting. Sam's little hands were curled around Dean's elbow to make sure he didn't leave again and Dean seemed perfectly content where he was.

John knew deep down that Dean would always be his perfect little soldier, but had he realized then that Sam was going to slip through his fingers, he would have held on a bit tighter.

TBC

A/N: Hey everyone! I've been posting some stories for other shows lately to expand my repertoire a bit, but I have to admit I've been missing the awesome Supernatural fandom! This idea occurred to me earlier today and I figured I'd post it simultaneously with my Dark Angel fic. This is part one of five, and if you're enjoying it so far, please review! Thanks!


	2. The Second Time

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.

Summary: John was always a good soldier, but rarely a good dad. Luckily for him, he had Dean to pick up the slack. John reflects back on five instances where Dean proved to be the better parent of the two of them.

Tag to Dead Man's Blood but no actual spoilers. A tiny bad word from Dean pops up in this chapter as well so fair warning!

The next memory that brushed John's mind came with a painful stab to his heart. He had been off on another hunt and had been so caught up in it, he failed to realize he had missed Sammy's tenth birthday.

This was by no means the first birthday for which he was absent, but his youngest had made him promise that he'd be home for the big double-digit day. It was three days later when he was finally heading back to his sons that he realized he had broken yet another promise to his kids. Sam was going to be pissed at him.

Attempting to find a suitable peace offering, he pulled into a no-name grocery store on his way back to the motel and bought a small cake. He knew it wouldn't be enough to earn Sam's forgiveness, but at least it was a step in the right direction.

Half an hour later, he parked in front of their motel room and gave the password of the week so Dean would open the door. The boy seemed tired but ultimately relieved that John had finally made it back.

"Hey, Dad. Everything go okay? You're later than we expected."

John sighed as he draped his coat over the closest chair. "I know, bud, and I'm sorry. Just took longer than I thought it would to find the damn thing. Where's Sammy?"

Dean jerked his head over his shoulder towards the closed bathroom door. "In the shower. I let him sleep in a bit today and we just got back about half an hour ago from runnin' drills."

His eldest son's hair was spiked up and wet so John knew Dean had taken his shower first, no doubt playing the big brother card that always made Sam roll his eyes but surrender non-the-less. "Did you leave him any hot water?"

"Enough," Dean grinned, then checked his watch. "He should be reappearing in about… two minutes." Then he caught sight of the cake in John's hands. "What's that?"

"Somethin' small I picked up for Sammy. Call it an apology." John frowned as Dean shifted a little uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. "What?"

"Nothin'. It's a great gesture, Dad, but uh… That kind of frosting makes Sammy sick."

John quirked an eyebrow. "You're kiddin' me, right? Since when?"

"Since always," Dean responded with a small shrug. "I learned that mistake a long time ago. Trust me, you don't want to see that cake a second time, half processed."

"That bad, huh?"

Dean shuddered slightly. "Worse. You wanna talk about a long night… Besides, he's given up sweets. One health class at school and he's reduced to eatin' rabbit food."

"Salads? Seriously? One of _my_ boys?"

"I know, right? That kid goes through the weirdest phases. There was one time where he would only eat gummy bears of all things. They gave him gummy tummy though so that phase thankfully didn't last long. I give him a week at most before he's back to burgers and steak."

"I take it we're not goin' out for birthday burgers tonight then?"

"Where there're burgers, there're salads so he'll be happy. Give me a hunk of cow over carrot sticks any day. I swear, there's no way we're related. I keep tryin' to tell him he's the milk man's kid but he just won't listen to me…"

"Dean…" John reprimanded though he couldn't keep the smirk off his face. He missed the light-hearted banter over the past two weeks. He had been on a solo hunt and the only interactions he had during that time were interviews for the case. Considering those tended to be with the victim's surviving relatives, they were far from cheerful conversations.

With a big grin on his face, Dean checked his watch again, then held up three fingers. "And three… Two… One…"

"DEAN! YOU JERK!" Sam shouted from the bathroom, desperately scrambling to shut off the now freezing water.

"Problem, Sammy?" Dean called back, feigning ignorance. He turned back to his father. "Told ya. Two minutes. Works every time."

John shook his head at his eldest's antics but Dean appeared to be unabashed.

"What? I already let him sleep in. If I gave him first shower, he'd start to think I was a saint or somethin'."

"Or somethin'," John chuckled.

"Anyway, he should be comin' out here soon to bitch at me so you might wanna hide that cake before we all pay for it."

The humor slowly left John's eyes as he glanced down at the small attempt at being a father that was clutched in his hands. "I just wanted to get him somethin' special, but looks like I can't even do _that_ right."

"Don't worry about it, Dad. You _did_ get him somethin' special. In fact, you got him a book he's been dyin' to read for months now."

John stared at his eldest in confusion. "Book? I didn't buy him any book…"

Dean raised his eyebrows and waited for his father to connect the dots. Dean had actually bought the book for Sammy but put John's name on it instead. "Trust me, there's no quicker way to Geek Boy's heart than the smell of a book hot off the presses. He'll forgive you, if he hasn't already."

"I…" John was flustered, words completely failing him. It never crossed his mind to buy his youngest a book, and right now, that seemed pretty absurd considering he knew how much Sammy loved to read.

Come to think of it, John did have a vague recollection of Sam blabbering on and on about some book before John had left for the hunt. He couldn't for the life of him remember any of the details, but it was clear the kid really wanted it. With everything he had going on though, a book was the least of John's concerns at the time. Thankfully, someone else had been paying closer attention. "Thank you, Dean."

Dean nodded back and took the cake from John. "You can thank me by splittin' this with me after the runt falls asleep tonight."

He waggled his eyebrows at John, earning a genuine laugh from his father, and tucked the bakery item up in one of the highest cabinets above the sink where Sam would never accidentally come across it.

When Sam came out of the bathroom in a huff, John winced, bracing himself for hurricane Sammy. His youngest paused in the doorway, looking at his father in surprise. Apparently he hadn't heard him arrive. "Dad?"

"Hey, kiddo. I uh… I'm sorry I didn't make it home in time for your birthday. I know I promised, but I just couldn't…"

He flinched back half a step as Sam strode over to him, preparing for the fight he was sure his youngest was about to start. But his eyes widened in shock when Sam threw his arms around his father's waist instead.

Glancing over at Dean as if to ask if this was really happening or not, his eldest simply smiled and winked back in return. God, he loved that kid.

'I didn't think you'd remember," Sam admitted softly from somewhere around John's navel. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Dad."

John's throat tightened and he had to blink a few times to clear the sudden moisture from his eyes. He didn't deserve his son's apology and he knew it. His mouth having gone completely dry, all he could do was nod his acceptance.

"It's the best present you've ever gotten me." Sam broke free and glanced up into his father's eyes. "I love you, Dad."

John pulled Sam in for another, much tighter, hug as the tears began to glide down his stubbled cheeks. "I love you too, son," he ground out past his aching vocal cords. He didn't want to let the boy go, ever. It was a rarity that such affection was ever shown in the Winchester family and John wanted to soak up every minute of it.

Dean leaned against the kitchen wall with his hands in his pockets, watching the emotional scene with pride in his heart. This was the way he always wanted his father and brother to be. This was worth every dish he had to scrub in that grubby restaurant down the street while Sam was at school.

John hadn't left the boys enough money for the extra days he had been gone, so Dean took it upon himself to flash his fake sixteen-year-old ID and raise enough cash to buy that rather expensive book for his brother.

He never intended on taking the credit for it though. This. This right here was all he ever wished for in return. When Dean first handed the book to Sam, he was afraid the kid would see right through his little white lie, just like he had on his eighth Christmas back in '91. Then again, maybe Sammy just wanted to believe in his father so desperately that he was willing to overlook the small discrepancies in his brother's spun story.

John did take them out for supper as promised and the time passed pleasantly enough. Sam bragged about the A plus he got in English and John did a brief reenactment of his hunt for Dean who was completely engrossed in the tale. John was even able to buy a slice of pie that the boys shared for dessert. Dean was right. Sammy's no sugar phase clearly wasn't going to last long.

Later that night while John and Dean were discussing the next hunt at the kitchen table, Sam fell asleep sitting up against the headboard of their bed, his new book resting on his chest. Dean glanced over when it had taken too long to hear the next page being flipped and smiled at his little brother.

"He do that often?" John asked, careful to keep his voice low.

"Only ever night," Dean smirked as he rose gracefully from his seat and crept over to their shared bed. He eased the book off of his brother, placed Sam's bookmark inside so he didn't lose his page, and set the prized possession on the nightstand within reaching distance.

Not wanting to risk waking Sam by pulling him down into a lying position, Dean simply raised the kid's head gently and, taking his own pillow from the other side of the bed, slid it behind his brother so Sam wouldn't crick his neck during the night.

"Night, Sammy," he whispered to the slumbering boy.

He brushed Sam's unruly bangs away from his eyes and made sure he was comfortable and sleeping peacefully before turning off the bedside lamp and making his way back to the kitchen table.

John watched in silence as his son worked fluidly, clearly having gotten used to this routine a long time ago. When had his little boy become such a man?

"You're good with him, you know," he stated softly when Dean sat back down next to him.

Dean shrugged off the compliment. "Eh, he makes it pretty easy. _Usually_…" he added, having to get that little jibe out there. "So. Ready to test out that cake?"

John smirked. "Thought you'd never ask."

TBC

Wow! Thank you all so much for your supportive reviews! I really missed you guys! Haha Please keep them coming and I'll do the same with the chapters. Till next time!


	3. The Third Time

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.

Summary: John was always a good soldier, but rarely a good dad. Luckily for him, he had Dean to pick up the slack. John reflects back on five instances where Dean proved to be the better parent of the two of them.

Tag to Dead Man's Blood but no actual spoilers.

Sam shifted restlessly on his bed for a moment and a small frown creased his brow before he settled again into a deeper sleep. John watched in amazement as Dean's head turned slightly towards his brother as if he sensed Sam's discomfort, even on a subconscious level.

Dean had always been attuned to Sam's needs. John had gotten the voicemails from Dean about his youngest's nightmares after Jessica had died. As much as it pained him, John never returned the calls because he knew without a doubt that Dean would be able to fix things on his own. That's what the kid did best, especially when it came to his little brother.

If Sam sneezed, Dean would go out and buy orange juice and Kleenex. If his voice sounded raspier than usual, Dean would get lozenges and cough syrup. His youngest would insist he was fine, just allergies or pollution… But Dean always knew better and sure enough, Sam would be bed-ridden the very next day.

Though John hadn't been there to witness the pampering until Sam was towards the end of his battle with the cold from Hell, he had heard the story plenty of times over the past few years. His youngest had been twelve and Dean had just gotten his permit, which meant he could legally drive with an adult in the car.

Granted, Dean had been taught to drive as soon as he could reach the pedals just in case John was too hurt to take himself to the hospital… but that's a story for another time.

Since John was going to be hunting nearby with Bobby who had every weapon known to mankind, he decided to leave the Impala behind for emergency use only. Unfortunately, their run down motel wasn't near anything useful and he knew Dean would eventually have to find his way to the nearest store for food.

Thankfully, the hunt was only supposed to take three days, max. Rather than have Dean go through all the work of transferring their records to the local school for such a short amount of time, John gave the boys some time off. They deserved it considering Dean was still nursing a few minor injuries from their latest hunt.

The boy was a natural, but sometimes the beasts were just a little bit faster. John checked the slowly healing bruises on Dean's left side one more time (much to his son's disgruntle), then dropped the keys into his open hand with the warning that the Impala was not a pimp machine and if he found any spare articles of female's clothing in the back seat, it would earn Dean extra laps for a month.

"No backseat. Gotcha." The cocky grin on his son's face told John exactly what Dean was thinking.

"No _front_ seat either. Or hood, or trunk, or anywhere else that involves my car. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good." Then as an automatic response, he added, "Look after your brother while I'm gone." As if he had to give that order these days… After the Striga incident, Dean hardly ever let Sammy out of his sight.

Apparently his eldest was thinking along the same lines because his expression sobered immediately. "Yes, sir."

Sam groaned from his perch on the end of their motel bed. "Dad, I'm almost thirteen now. I don't need a babysitter anymore."

John paused for a moment in the doorway, considering. "Excellent point. Sam, look after your brother."

"Hey!" Dean shot a look over at his father, feigning indignation. But of course, he didn't _really_ mind. As long as the eldest and youngest Winchesters were getting along, he was perfectly happy with being the butt of their jokes. Not that he'd ever actually admit to that though…

Sam burst into laughter that ended in a coughing fit. Dean strode over and patted him on the back until he got himself under control again. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Sam gasped back. "Just swallowed wrong."

"That's what you get for makin' fun of your big brother." Dean nudged Sam's arm with his elbow.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

And with that, John left his sons to their brotherly banter.

A few hours passed pleasantly enough as the boys camped out on the beds (Sam on theirs and Dean on John's) and watched a horror movie marathon together. Halfway through the second film, Dean noticed Sam was starting to squint at the screen. Either the kid needed glasses, or…

"Headache, Sammy?"

Sam jumped slightly, looking like he had been caught red-handed. "Just a little one."

"Want somethin' for it?"

Sam shook his head. "That's okay. I'm probably just overtired."

They both turned back to watch the rest of the film, though Dean was careful to be more observant to any signs of stress or discomfort coming from his brother. As the end credits began to roll, Dean's stomach growled loudly and he checked his watch. It was definitely suppertime.

"Hey, bro, ready to take the Impala for a drive and grab some grub?"

Sam's face squinched up and he absently rubbed a hand across his stomach. "Nah. Not really hungry."

That certainly caught Dean's attention. He frowned. "Dude, you normally have the appetite of a whale. What's up with you?"

"Nothin'. Just not hungry is all."

"Uh huh…" Dean gave him a calculating stare and Sam tried not to squirm under the intense scrutiny. "Come 'ere for a sec."

"Why?" Sam asked warily.

"Either you come to me or I'm comin' to you. Your choice."

Sam stood with a huff and made his way to his brother's side. "What, Dean?"

Dean's hand shot out and felt Sam's forehead before he could protest. "You're feelin' a bit warm, Sammy. You comin' down with somethin'?"

Sam brushed his brother's hand away. "I'm _fine_, Dean. You're just being paranoid."

"It's my _job_ to be paranoid, dude. That last school we were at had a nasty bug goin' around. Maybe we should stock up on meds while we're out."

"You wanna get meds, you should buy some more painkillers. I know your side still hurts, Dean. You were supposed to get refills when your prescription ran out."

"Those pills screw with my head, Sammy. Besides, it's just a few bruises. Nothin' I can't handle. You thinkin' soup and salad tonight, or are you gonna man up and get some real food like a chili dog or bacon burger?"

Sam turned six shades of green and raced off towards the bathroom. Dean leapt off the bed and darted after him. He arrived just in time to see his brother grace the toilet bowl with his breakfast and lunch.

Dean wet a washcloth with cool water and sat on the side of the tub so he was within arm's reach of Sam. "Easy, buddy… Just breathe…" he coached, wincing as Sam's stomach continued to clench painfully even after it was completely empty.

Dean rubbed soothing circles on Sam's tense back, supporting him with a hand on his shoulder. When Sam was finally able to catch his breath, he rested his forehead against his outstretched arms and swallowed a few times, convulsively. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, kiddo?" Dean asked, draping the folded cloth around Sam's neck and gently massaging the strained muscles underneath it.

"I think I'm comin' down with somethin'," Sam replied hoarsely.

Dean snorted. "Ya think? Come on, Captain Obvious. Let's get you in bed where you belong."

"What about your supper?" Sam protested feebly as Dean eased him to his feet.

"It can wait." Dean knew he had to make a trip to the local pharmacy but he wasn't sure whether it would be best to drag Sam out into the cold night air or leave him in the motel room alone. Neither option seemed all that promising.

When Sam sagged a bit in his arms, Dean's mind was made up. He half carried his brother to their bed and eased him down to the mattress before covering him with the blankets.

"Okay, Sammy, I've gotta run out for a bit, but here's a trash basket if you feel nauseous again and don't answer the door for anybody, got it? I have my key so I'll let myself back in. You stay in this bed and I'll be back as soon as possible, alright?"

Sam nodded with a small cough but he was clearly giving in to his exhaustion. Dean checked his forehead again before smoothing his brother's hair back away from his sweaty face.

"Get some sleep, kiddo." Dean made sure to leave a gun in the bedside table's drawer where Sam could easily reach it if necessary, then he checked to make sure the salt lines in front of the door and the windows were unbroken before heading out to the car at a fast pace. He didn't want to be gone any longer than absolutely necessary.

It took Dean six minutes to reach the closest pharmacy, ten minutes inside to get everything he needed and checked out, and then another six minutes to get back to the motel. When he slipped back in through the door, he found Sam sleeping fitfully, exactly where he had left him twenty-two minutes ago.

He deposited his bag on the kitchen table and began pulling out his purchased items. He shook two Tylenol pills into his hand and cracked open a bottle of water. He didn't trust the motel water that came with a slight brownish tint and a mysterious odor.

Tucking a package of crackers and a bag of lozenges into his crooked elbow, he carried his first round of supplies to Sammy's bedside and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Placing the bottled water into his own lap, he gently shook Sam's shoulder.

"Hey, dude. I'm back. I need you to wake up for a bit."

Sam groaned and reluctantly cracked his eyes open. "'m tired, Dean…"

"I know, kiddo. But you've gotta take some meds before you pass out again, okay? Here." Dean held the two Tylenol out for his brother to take and waited patiently for Sam to push himself up onto his elbows and accept the proffered pills.

The water bottle was placed in Sam's other hand, cap already off because Dean knew his brother was feeling weak. Sam gratefully took a few gulps of the cold water to wash the drugs down but as they hit his stomach, his eyes widened in alarm.

Dean immediately placed the bucket in front of him just as the pills and water resurfaced. "So it's gonna be like that, huh?" he teased without any real humor to his tone, automatically rubbing Sam's back once again.

"S-sorry, Dean…" Sam panted after spitting the fowl taste out of his mouth.

"Don't apologize, Sammy. 's not your fault." He waited a few more minutes and when it seemed his brother was done for now, Dean took hold of the bucket. "You good?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Alright. Just relax for a minute." Dean took the bucket into the bathroom and rinsed it out before returning it to the side of Sam's bed in case he needed it later. "Look, I know you're not gonna wanna hear this, bro, but you really need to eat somethin'. Pills on an empty stomach was my mistake, so why don't we try some crackers, and sip the water this time. Don't chug it."

The last thing Sam wanted to do was think about food, but he had learned long ago that Dean always knew what was best for him. If he said it was time to eat, then it was time to eat. "I'll try."

Dean opened the package of crackers and handed him one. "Start off slow, okay? Let's see how you handle it."

Sam nibbled on the cracker until it was gone. It took nearly three minutes for him to finish it, but so far it was staying down. Dean handed him another. When Sam was eight crackers in, he decided to call it quits. He didn't want to push his luck. Dean conceded, for now.

The effort had been exhausting and Sam was already drifting off again. He was covered in sweat and his shirt was nearly soaked through but he didn't have the energy to change. When the air conditioning kicked on in the room though, he couldn't contain the violent shudder that wracked his thin frame.

Dean quickly strode across the room and shut the machine off. It was getting warm thanks to all the body heat his brother was throwing, but Sammy's comfort always came first. He went to the bathroom and wet a washcloth, then grabbed a clean T-shirt from his own bag before returning to Sam's side.

"You're startin' to stink, dude. Arms up."

Sam mumbled a protest but didn't have much choice when his big brother gently took hold of his wrists and pulled him upright. Dean quickly slipped the wet shirt off of Sam and, using the warm cloth, he did his best to clean his brother up and cool him down at the same time.

"Here, put this on," Dean said as he tossed his shirt into his brother's lap. Knowing that sickness came with body aches and pains, Dean didn't want Sam to be restricted anymore than necessary. The shirt he had chosen was twice the size of his brother's usual shirts and would look more like a nightgown on the kid, but at least he'd have room to breathe comfortably. "How's the head?"

"Still hurts," Sam admitted as he struggled with the shirt, starting to sound like a young child again, which naturally brought out the mother-hen in Dean. He reached forward and helped tug the shirt over his brother's head.

"You wanna try some Tylenol again or go back to sleep?"

"Sleep."

"Kay." Dean gauged his brother's temperature again with the back of his hand as he helped him slide back down under the blankets. Noticing it seemed a bit higher than before, Dean took the heaviest blanket off the bed.

"Deeaannn…. It's cold!"

"No, Sammy, it isn't. It's just the fever, and if you keep that blanket on, you're gonna turn into a pot roast. Go back to sleep now. You'll feel better in the mornin'."

Dean had just barely turned his back when he could hear Sam's congested snores behind him. He smirked. If only it had always been this easy to get the kid to sleep…

Dean eyed the crackers, his stomach giving another loud rumble. Those were Sam's crackers though, and he wasn't about to take them away from him. He should have bought something at the store, but funds were limited and the medicines were expensive.

He cracked open a Gatorade knowing that it would at least replenish some of the nutrients his system was no doubt craving. Sam was going to have to stick to water for a while anyway; at least until his stomach decided to cooperate.

He had just sat down to field strip his weapons when Sam began coughing. Dean looked up and watched as his brother tossed and turned for a bit, the coughs sounding painful and wet.

The elder Winchester quietly sifted through his bag of items and pulled out a jar of Vick's VapoRub. Did he know his brother well, or what? Taking up his seat by Sam's side again, he easily pulled the over-sized shirt's neckline down a few inches, granting him access to his brother's congested chest.

Dean scooped some of the rub onto his fingers and massaged it into Sam's heated skin. Sam looked up at him blearily in confusion when the icy feel of the medicine pulled him from his uneasy sleep.

"Just me, dude. Go back to sleep," Dean whispered and Sam's eyelids fell shut once again. The vapors were opening Sam's sinuses already and easing the tickle in his lungs. He sighed in relief and went lax under his brother's skilled hands.

Sam woke a few more times during the night, but his big brother was always there to tend to his needs. He'd hold the bucket when Sam felt nauseous again, give him lozenges when his throat throbbed from the coughing and stomach acid, repeatedly check his temperature, and cool him down with wet cloths whenever the sweating began.

Dean was just starting to drift off in the chair next to his brother's bed when Sam woke up once again. The sun was beginning to shine in through the heavy blinds covering the motel room's windows.

As the younger boy attempted to sit up, he let out an involuntary groan as his muscles screamed in protest. Dean jolted back to awareness and his eyes immediately fell on his brother's pained expression. "Sammy?"

"Hey, Dean. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"Nah, I wasn't really sleepin'. You need somethin'?"

"Bathroom."

"Alright. Come on." Dean stood with a bone-cracking stretch and held a hand out for his brother to take.

"I can do it, Dean," Sam protested, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing unsteadily. Dean tried not to laugh as the indignation mixed with the over-sized T-shirt made his little brother look like a toddler again.

Conceding to Sam's wishes, Dean took half a step back to clear a path to the bathroom and quirked an eyebrow at his little brother which Sam took as a dare. He shuffled one foot forward and almost immediately, his legs gave way.

Dean's arms shot out, encircling his chest from behind, and that was the only reason Sam didn't face-plant into the floor. Dean grunted as he was forced to use his bruised muscles to compensate for the sudden weight in his arms, but no way was he letting Sam go.

Ignoring his own pain, he encouraged his brother with comforting tones. "Easy, Sammy. Take it slow." He guided Sam towards the bathroom and by the time they reached the door, Sam had regained most of the control in his jellified muscles. He proceeded to take care of business alone, but was immediately met by Dean when he opened the door for the return trip back to bed.

"You're dehydrated, dude. Think you can keep some water down today?"

Sam considered the question, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think so."

"Good." Dean handed Sam the same water bottle from the night before. By now, the liquid was closer to room temperature so hopefully it wouldn't shock his system this time around and upset his stomach. Sam took a few tentative sips and the burning in his throat started to ease off. "Alright, I want you to take one of these before we try more crackers, okay?"

Dean held out a chew tablet designed to settle upset stomachs. Sam gladly took the medicine and waited a few minutes to give it time to kick in. "Take it slow again, alright?" Dean warned as he handed over the crackers.

Sam heard Dean's stomach growl and frowned at his brother. "Did you ever get dinner last night?"

"Like anyone could eat after cleaning up vomit all night…" he deflected.

"Dean, you could get sick too if you don't take care of yourself half as well as you take care of me."

"No worries, Sammy. I'm immune to little brother bugs."

"I'm not gonna eat another cracker until you have," Sam challenged.

"Really mature, Sam," Dean grumbled, but he grudgingly took a cracker and made a show of eating it. "There. See? I ate one. Now you eat the rest."

Dean was in the process of checking Sam's fever again when the door swung open, making both boys jump. "Dad? Bobby?"

The older man carried John's bag in for him, which set off the alarm bells in Dean's head. "What happened? You guys alright?"

John held up a finger and made a dive for the bathroom. Bobby turned back to the boys. "We took out the spirit the same hour we arrived. Bad news is, we celebrated at a local dive and now I think John's got food poisoning. I told him that burger didn't look cooked…"

Dean groaned and Sam chuckled sympathetically at him. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire. Dean stood wearily and went to get the nausea medicine again.

TBC

I made this chapter extra long as a thanks for all your support and reviews! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and more to come soon.


	4. The Fourth Time

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.

Summary: John was always a good soldier, but rarely a good dad. Luckily for him, he had Dean to pick up the slack. John reflects back on five instances where Dean proved to be the better parent of the two of them.

Tag to Dead Man's Blood and mentions of After School Special but no actual spoilers.

John checked his watch and let out a weary sigh when he realized his trip down memory lane hadn't killed as much time as he had hoped. All was still quiet on the home front. _Where are those damn vamps? They must be gettin' hungry by now…_

He did a quick sweep of the room, checking all the doors and windows, then hovered between the two ratty motel beds. At least Sam and Dean had the sense to sleep _on _the sheets rather than with whatever may be lurking _within_ them. Not that he was surprised. His boys had always been smart.

Though he would never admit it to his youngest, he was proud of Sam for making it into college on a scholarship. Dean could have done the same if he had applied himself and did homework once in a while. But unlike Sam, Dean always put his family first, no matter what.

If John needed help on a hunt or if Sammy needed help with his homework, Dean's grades would suffer for it. And in turn, it was Dean who got the bad rep. Of course, he went along with the bad boy persona; partially because it helped win over the girls, but mostly because it gave him a dangerous vibe that kept the majority of the troublemakers at bay.

Unfortunately, being the new kids on the block typically attracted the bullies like sharks to chum. Dean's natural suave and easygoing personality tended to earn him friends and fans as opposed to foes, but Sammy's above average intelligence and the fact he was always a bit small for his age made him seem like an easy target.

Knowing that a trip to the nurse's office could easily get CPS or the police involved thanks to the numerous scars that would no doubt raise questions, John's sons knew better than to get involved with fights if they could avoid it.

With Dean watching out for his little brother like a hawk, the boys were able to make it through most school systems without a problem. Glancing down at his eldest as he slept, however, John remembered that wasn't always the case.

Since Dean knew how important it was to keep a low profile at all times, John had been surprised when he received a call from the boys' principal claiming that Dean was in a fight.

His son had just turned eighteen and could legally be held accountable for his actions. Because of this, John knew there had to be a good reason for his eldest to have broken protocol so he packed up what he was researching at the local library and sped all the way to the high school to pick his boys up and deal with the fall-out.

He stormed into the principal's office, sending a quick, evaluating glance at his boys who sat side-by-side in the wooden chairs just outside the office's door. Aside from a bleeding cut along Dean's left brow (which he was attempting to stem with a balled up paper towel) and the busted lip he was sporting, they both looked alright, though Dean was sitting rigidly at the very edge of his chair, looking ready to bolt for the nearest exit.

"Don't move," John ordered before entering the small office space and closing the door behind him.

As it turned out, the principal didn't seem to think Dean had been at fault for the tussle. According to a few witnesses, some kid named Brandon threw the first punch and Dean had simply been trying to defend himself. The fact that Dean was quickly outnumbered by Brandon's thug friends helped to sway the pity vote as well…

SPNSPNSPN

John could just barely see the small scar on Dean's left eyebrow in the darkness of the motel room. Apparently Brandon had been wearing a ring of some kind when he dealt that first blow.

John's hand hovered over his boy's brow for a moment as he reflected back on the memory but, not wanting to disrupt the few hours of sleep Dean was managing, John let his hand drop silently back to his side and returned to his seat across the room.

It wasn't the fight that made John suddenly feel sentimental. It was the conversation he had with Dean afterwards that stuck with him through the years. John dropped his gaze to his hands as he allowed his mind to wander once more.

SPNSPNSPN

When John stepped back out of the office, he found his boys sitting in the same position, apparently having taken his previous demand to heart. "You boys alright?" he asked in a low voice, ignoring the busy-body secretary who leaned forward over her desk for fear of missing vital gossip information.

"Yes, sir," his sons responded just as quietly, both of them refusing to make eye contact.

"Good. Let's go then." John led the way to the truck and everyone was silent- aside from the occasional hitched breath from Dean when potholes jarred his sore body- until they reached the motel. "Sam, go inside. Dean, a word."

"Dad, Dean didn't do anything wrong," Sam immediately started to protest. "He was just…"

"Sam! Inside. Now."

Sam shot his brother an apologetic look before hanging his head and scuffing his feet all the way to the motel room's door. John waited until the boy was inside before turning to face his eldest.

Dean stood a few feet away, expecting to be reamed out for his behavior. He was worrying his bottom lip, occasionally running his tongue over the split in the right corner of his mouth. The bruises were already starting to show and looked rather painful.

"C'mere," John ordered as he stepped forward himself, working on closing the distance between them. John reached out and, not missing Dean's flinch, he gently but firmly took hold of his boy's chin and tilted his head slightly to get a better look at his injuries in the bright sunlight.

Using his thumb, he carefully pressed along Dean's left eye socket to make sure no bones were fractured. Dean hissed in pain but didn't pull away. He was clearly going to be hiding a black eye behind shades for a few days at least. "We gotta get some ice on that."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Dean replied quietly but John knew he was lying.

"What really happened, Dean?" he questioned, releasing his son and taking half a step back out of his personal space.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I screwed up. Brandon was being a dick and I challenged him when I knew I shouldn't have."

"Care to explain why?" John needed to see the full picture before he could decide if further punishment would be necessary.

"Because he was goin' after Sam." Dean finally looked up and locked defiant eyes with his father, clearly giving off the impression that his response was more than enough justification for his actions.

John knew he had drilled it into his eldest since he was four years old that it was his job to keep Sammy safe. How could he punish Dean now for doing what he was told? Instead, John nodded in understanding.

"So this punk was gonna start trouble with Sammy and you stepped in?"

"Yes, sir. I heard some rumors in the hallways that Brandon was going after the new kid after school and, since I hadn't managed to piss anyone off yet, I assumed that meant he wanted a piece of Sam for some reason."

"No idea what started it?"

"Not a clue. Probably made him look stupid in class or something. I'll get the story outta Sammy later. But apparently, Brandon caught up with Sam at his locker and dragged him out to the baseball field. It took me a while to find them, and just as I was gettin' there, I saw the asshole shove Sam to the ground."

"So you thought it'd be a good idea to beat the hell out of that Brandon kid and risk the authorities gettin' involved?"

"Of course not, Dad. I know we can't take risks like that. I pulled Sam to his feet and told him to go back inside the school and get help. I'm not gonna lie and say I didn't wanna punch the kid's face in after startin' shit with Sammy, but I followed our rules and let him hit me first."

"Hence the shiner," John deduced and Dean nodded.

"That kid has one hell of a left hook," the middle Winchester admitted with a wince. "I was just gonna take the beatin' until Sam came back with help, but then Brandon's friends showed up and I had to fight back or I'd've been outta commission for the next hunt. I'm sorry."

John patted his son's shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong here, Dean. You're allowed to protect yourself and your brother when the situation calls for it. Why don't you head inside and get cleaned up."

"Yes, sir." Dean turned and made a beeline for the motel room, intending to check on Sammy one more time. He found his little brother moving away from the window where he had apparently been spying on their conversation. "Nosy neighbor much?" he teased.

"Everything okay?" Sam countered, ignoring his brother's dig.

"Everything's fine, dude. Let me see your hands."

Sam rolled his eyes before holding them out, palms up. "I'm _fine_, Dean. I swear. The bleeding stopped a long time ago." Dean inspected his brother's scraped hands carefully. They were cut up a bit from their encounter with the tar but nothing a little Neosporin couldn't fix.

"And your knees?"

"Bruised but I think I'll live."

"You better."

Sam reached up to check Dean's eye like their father had done but Dean jerked away. "It's fine, dude. Why don't you take first shower and get cleaned up."

Sam eyed his brother suspiciously. "What's wrong, Dean?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. "Who said anything was wrong? It's my right as big brother to relinquish the first shower if the situation calls for it. You want it or not?"

"Yeah. Yeah, if you're sure."

"Good. Move it then."

Sam scurried around, collecting his things, before disappearing behind the bathroom door. It was a rarity he got the chance to take a hot shower and he wasn't about to pass it up.

The moment the door was blocking his little brother from view, Dean eased himself onto his bed, stomach down and face buried in his pillow.

John watched the boys interact from just inside the doorway and what he saw made his stomach flip. Of the two of them, Dean was clearly the dirtiest and covered in flecks of blood; some of it his, and some that wasn't. Normally, his eldest would have gone straight for the bathroom to wash off the grime and the fact that he didn't raised red flags.

The other major concern was that Dean rarely slept on his stomach because it was a compromising position that was hard to get out of in a rush. That, combined with the earlier image of Dean sitting on the very edge of the chair at school and his muffled groans from the bumpy ride home, alerted John to the pain he had previously overlooked.

He had been so concerned about whether or not the cops were going to come knocking for Dean, that he hadn't gotten around to demanding his eldest give a full injury report beyond the obvious cuts and bruises on his face.

John carefully lowered himself to sit on the side of the mattress by his son's hip, trying his best not to jostle the boy.

Dean stirred, turning his head and blinking up at his father in exhaustion and confusion. "Dad? What…?" He tired to roll onto his side so he didn't look quite so pathetic, but John quickly placed a restraining hand on his son's upper arm.

"It's alright, Dean. Lay still. I just wanna check your back."

Dean's muscles tensed immediately under John's grip and if the patriarch had needed further evidence that his boy was injured, that was it. Of course, that didn't stop Dean from protesting.

"I'm fine, Dad. Just stiff and tired."

"Then you won't mind me checkin', will you." It wasn't a question and Dean knew it. The boy buried his face back into his pillow with a grumble, grudgingly surrendering to his father's will. John moved his hands to Dean's wrists. "I'm gonna slide your over-shirt off, okay? Arms down."

Dean nodded, moving his arms to his sides with his father's help and trying to relax his muscles so he didn't make things worse for himself. John unbuttoned the sleeves, carefully took hold of the collar of Dean's shirt, and eased it from around his son's shoulders. Dean stifled a gasp as the movement pulled at his injuries but didn't attempt to stop his father.

John took that as permission and continued, sliding the navy blue clothing off of Dean's wrists. Dean immediately brought his hands back up to latch onto the corners of his pillow as he prepared for the onslaught of pain.

With the first layer of clothing out of the way, John was able to see Dean's arms for the most part but the rest of his body was concealed beneath a white T-shirt. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be much damage done to his limbs and there were no blood stains caking the shirt to Dean's back so John gave his son's upper arm a gentle squeeze for comfort before moving his hands down to the boy's waist.

Taking hold of the hem of his cotton shirt, he gently pulled it up towards Dean's head and John felt the rage building in him as his son's back was slowly revealed. The boy's skin was lined with deep purple bruises that stretched from one side of his ribs to the other like he had been lashed with something hard.

"Jesus, Dean… What the hell did this?" John pressed along each bruise, checking for broken bones and serious hematomas. Dean grunted at his father's probing, clutching the pillow even tighter and trying to stay still.

"I had the upper hand until Brandon's buddies showed up. Turns out, they were all on the baseball team and had access to the equipment."

"Those little punks beat you with bats?" John was mad enough to see red. He tried to control his breathing so he wouldn't accidentally cause Dean more pain by pushing harder than necessary.

"Yes, sir."

"How many were there?"

"Nine I think."

"Damn it." John finished his prodding and sat back giving Dean a little space to collect himself again. "Are you hurt anywhere else? And don't you dare lie to me, Dean."

"No, sir. Just a few bruises here and there. No broken bones or lacerations, aside from the cut above my eye, but the nurse said it's not very deep."

"I'll get to that next. Relax for a minute." John rose from the bed and went to his duffle, pulling out the first aid kit. Dean's eyes tracked his every movement, trepidation barely concealed in his expression.

"I know you were tryin' to protect your brother, Dean, but Sam should've had your back," John scolded as he sifted through their medical supplies. "You've gotta stop coddlin' him. He can hold his own."

"He shouldn't have to. That's what he's got me for."

"Hate to break it to ya, kid, but you're not invincible. I need to know that when you need backup, you won't be afraid to ask for it." He returned to the bed with a tube of cream designed to take some of the bite out of the bruising and help stop the swelling.

"You know what happens when you get in trouble for fighting at school, Dad? You get expelled. Sammy's a smart kid and he actually _enjoys_ school. I swear it's the only time he's happy these days. But me? I know where my future lies and I don't need a diploma for it. So if some asshole wants a fight, it's gonna be with me. End of story."

Dean jerked inadvertently as his father squirted a fair amount of the cold cream along his heated back. His muscles remained taut as John's thick and rough fingers massaged the salve into his bruised skin. He knew the man was trying to be gentle, but that wasn't exactly part of the military training. He bit back a cry when John's hands pressed on a particularly painful bruise close to his spine.

Sam chose that moment to come back out of the bathroom, steam billowing from the small room in his wake. Dean struggled to try and pull his shirt back down before his brother could see the damage, but a firm hand to the back of his neck stilled his desperate movements.

"Easy, Dean. Sam should know the consequences of picking fights so we can prevent this from happening again."

"Dad, it's not…" Dean tried to protest, struggling against his father's restraining grip.

"C'mere, Sammy," John cut in, clearly ignoring his son's words. Dean blushed profusely as Sam neared the bed in small, shuffling steps. It wasn't like Sam had never seen him without a shirt on before, but Dean knew his brother would never let him hear the end of it for attempting to hide his injuries once he saw them.

"Brandon did that?" Sam asked softly. "You said he only got two good hits in, Dean. Why didn't you tell me?"

Dean felt his brother's small fingers glide over his throbbing flesh. They weren't rough and calloused yet like his father's. Dean hoped for Sammy's sake that they never would be. "Not your fault, Sam," he automatically stated, quick to try and relieve his brother of guilt.

"I was the one who pissed Brandon off, Dean. It should've been _my_ fight, not yours."

"Like I was gonna let that happen," Dean scoffed. "If you had chipped a nail, you'd've thrown a hissy fit, Sam."

"Would not!"

"Boys, that's enough. Sam, go get your brother some ice packs from the freezer."

"Yes, sir," Sam grumbled as he went off in search of bagged vegetables.

John patted his eldest's hip twice to regain his attention. "Sit up for a minute, Dean."

When his boy faltered in the attempt, his arms shaking from the strain, John slid his hand under Dean's chest and guided him backwards into a kneeling position on the bed. "That fight took a lot outta ya, didn't it," John stated with barely hidden concern as his eyes roamed over Dean's chest and abdomen, looking for any additional injuries his boy may have neglected to mention.

"Just need to rest for a little a while and I'll be good as new." Dean forced a weak smile, then grimaced when it pulled on his split lip, making it bleed again. John only hoped they had enough frozen peas to ease his son's pain.

Later that night, John laid awake in his bed, thinking about how wrong the day could have gone. If Dean hadn't been strong enough to conceal the pain he was in around the school authorities, or if he had been taken to the hospital, he could have lost both of his boys to the system. This was a little too close for comfort. It was time to pack up and hit the road again.

Sam shifted on the mattress he was sharing with his brother and propped himself up on an elbow to peer down at Dean's still frame. The sheets were pulled up to Dean's waist but his back was still exposed to the chill air because the pain killers hadn't quite kicked in yet and even the light fabric was enough to make his skin ache.

"Hey, Dean?" Though Sam's voice was barely above a whisper, it still carried enough in the otherwise silent room for John to hear it. Dean grunted noncommittally in response. "You awake?"

"That supposed to be a trick question, Sammy?" Dean mumbled into his pillow, making John smirk though he gave no other sign that he was still awake as well.

"Just checking. Want some more ice for your back?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks. Those veggie packs burn more than they numb."

"Kay."

"Go to sleep, dude."

Sam allowed the silence to stretch on for a few more minutes before breaking it once again. "Dean?"

His big brother groaned in annoyance, apparently having been on the edge of finally drifting off to sleep. "What, Sam?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Dean sounded a bit more awake now, but utterly confused.

"I know why you took those guys on for me." John tilted his head slightly to make it easier to hear. Apparently, there were still some details he hadn't been privy to. "It was cause of what I said at Truman High, wasn't it?"

This time Dean drew out the pause, clearly debating on how best to answer. "It might have played a part."

"I would've fought back, Dean. I know I said I didn't wanna be a freak anymore, but you were right. Taking a beating isn't normal either, and it risks exposure. If I had know you were gonna do somethin' stupid, I wouldn't have said anything in the first place."

Dean carefully turned his head so he could see his brother's face in the dim light. "When I saw you hit the ground and you didn't get up… I thought for sure you were just gonna take it and that kid wouldn't've walked away. I wasn't gonna let that happen."

"Even if it meant you took the hits instead?"

"Better me than you, little brother."

"I could've handled Brandon, Dean."

"Yeah, well… tough. Anyone wants to start shit with you, they're gonna have to go through me first. That's just the way it is."

"Does that include evil lunch ladies?"

Dean smirked into his pillow. "You know I've always got your back, regardless of what you're up against. Just focus on your studies and let me handle the rest. Now can I please go to sleep? It's been a long day, dude."

"Yeah. Sorry." Sam slumped back into his pillow with a weary sigh. "I'll shut up now."

Dean bit his lip for a moment, wondering how far he was willing to push this little chick flick, but there was still something that had to be said. "Hey, Sammy?"

"Huh?"

"You're not a freak, man. Not to me."

"Thanks, Dean." Sam snuggled a little closer to his brother, feeling safer and attempting to share his body heat as the air conditioning kicked on. He expected Dean to protest and call him a girl but his actual response brought a smile to his lips.

"G'night, bitch."

"Night, jerk."

TBC

One chapter to go! So sorry for the long wait, everyone. I couldn't get this chapter to cooperate and I'm still not completely sold on it, but I figured I should post something soon. At least I put in some hurt!Dean and made it nice and long though, right? Please review!


	5. The Last Time

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.

Summary: John was always a good soldier, but rarely a good dad. Luckily for him, he had Dean to pick up the slack. John reflects back on five instances where Dean proved to be the better parent of the two of them.

Tag to Dead Man's Blood but no actual spoilers.

John's mind was speeding down a one-way path now and he was helpless to stop it. He knew what the final destination was going to be, long before he had allowed his thoughts to wander in the still of the night.

And yet here he was, unavoidably racing towards the second worst memory of his life, dwarfed only by his beloved wife's death; the day his baby boy chose Stanford over his family.

John was man enough to admit, to himself at least, that he could have handled the situation better. But at the time, it was hard to see sense past the anger and betrayal. Even now, seeing his youngest resting peacefully mere feet away, John could feel his blood boiling just below the surface.

Sam would never understand what his desperate need for freedom had cost his father and brother, mainly because Dean would never allow John to tell him.

It was Sam's presence that kept Dean sane in the life they led. His little brother was his stone; the one who kept him grounded when the insanity of the hunt threatened to push him over the edge.

He needed Sammy to function and to bring happiness into his dark little world. But when it came time to choose between his own happiness and Sam's, Dean was able to make the ultimate sacrifice and let his brother go; something John wasn't quite so graceful at doing. He hung his head in shame as he recalled the events of that day with vivid clarity.

The three of them had been bickering more than usual, which was saying a lot. Sam was constantly picking fights with John and Dean was always trying to keep the peace, but even _he_ had been pushed too far on more than one occasion lately.

When Dean resorted to yelling, that would always be the end of the fight. The admonishing glare he would alternate between his family members would take the wind out of their sails and make the other two Winchesters feel like they were going to be sent to bed early without supper. Not even John could look his eldest in the eye when he wore that disapproving expression.

But this time, John just couldn't let it go. The topic of discussion had been Sam wanting to go to college and John flat out refused to let that happen. They functioned as a team and Sam was a key part of that. Not to mention they couldn't watch the boy's back if he was off playing Joe College. Once a hunter, always a hunter. Why couldn't Sam understand that?

"You're not going, and that's final," John growled, but he knew damn well that his youngest wasn't about to back down. He had built up a head of steam over the past few days of constant tension and from the look on his face, John could tell Sam was seconds away from blowing a gasket. That's when Dean stepped in. Perfect timing as always.

"Stop it, both of you. Let's talk this over like adults, shall we?" Dean was right in the middle of the other two men, a hand on each of their chests to prevent them from strangling each other.

If anything though, his hands acted as a conductor between two sources of electricity. John could literally feel himself shaking and Sam's jaw was clenched so tightly, it was a miracle his teeth hadn't been reduced to powder.

John dropped his gaze to his eldest, seeing the pleading look in his eyes. Against his better judgment, John ignored it. "You can't have an adult conversation with kids involved, Dean."

Dean's eyes fell shut in resignation, waiting for the inevitable explosion. He winced as Sam's voice rose an octave higher. "_I'm_ being a kid? That's rich…" Sam took another step towards their father and Dean immediately shifted his stance to counteract the move, turning towards John and putting Sam behind him.

He reached back and latched onto Sam's left wrist so he knew exactly where his brother was and kept his right hand against his father's chest. "Come on guys, this is ridiculous," Dean stated, hoping against hope that his family members would see reason through the red haze of anger.

Instead, the pressure against his back increased, forcing Dean to shift his weight and steady himself by pushing harder against his father's chest in return. _Damn it, Sam._

"What's so wrong with wanting to further my education like a normal human being?" Sam challenged, looking right over Dean's head as though he were an invisible barrier.

"You don't _get_ to be normal, Sam! This is the family business, like it or not!"

"Knock it off, both of you!" Dean barked, trying to get their attention off of each other, even if only for a moment. They completely ignored him.

"No, Dad! This is _your _business! You never should've dragged Dean and me into it. It's obvious you're only out for revenge!"

"I don't hear Dean complainin' about hunting."

"That's cause you've brainwashed him into thinking he has no other choice!"

"There _IS_ no other choice! He's just smart enough to know that! It's time you grew up and faced reality too!"

"That's enough!" Dean shouted, pissed that he had been dragged into yet another fight that had nothing to do with him. "Sam, outside. Go cool off." He yanked on his brother's sleeve, trying to direct him towards the door.

Sam stood his ground a moment longer, glaring daggers over Dean's shoulder at his father. "Sam!" Dean barked as he turned his head far enough to look up at his brother without losing contact with John.

Reluctantly, Sam started to side step towards the exit. The fresh air would do him some good but he wasn't sure he was ready to surrender just yet. Admittedly, the fire in his soul was slowly starting to ebb now that Dean had taken control of the situation. He would let this round go, if only for his big brother's sake.

As Sam began to walk away, John took a half step to the side as if to get around Dean but his eldest matched his move effortlessly as though he had seen it coming. "Don't," Dean said quietly but the warning in his eyes belied the gentleness of his tone.

Dean's focus never left John, even after he heard the motel door slam shut behind his brother. He took a moment to collect himself, not wanting to let his anger get the best of him as well. Finally, he allowed his restraining hand to fall from John's chest.

"This isn't right," Dean forced out when he was relatively sure he could keep the quiver of anguish out of his voice.

John softened almost immediately at the broken expression on his boy's face. Now that Sam wasn't here to fuel his anger, he was able to recognize the barely concealed pain deep within his other son's eyes. "Don't worry, Dean. Sam's not goin' anywhere."

Dean shook his head. "That's not what I'm sayin'. We can't keep him here, Dad."

John rolled his eyes, feeling his rage swelling inside of him again. "Don't you start too. Hunters can't just walk away from the life, Dean, and you damn well know that. The demons, the monsters… They will follow him and they will try to kill him, regardless of whether he's actively hunting or not. When you boys were born, you had targets slapped on your backs, and I wish like Hell I could say otherwise but that's just the way it is and your brother is gonna have to deal with it."

"So what're you gonna do, Dad? Huh? Tie him to a chair 24/7? Throw him in the trunk whenever we hit the road?"

"If that's what it takes to keep him alive."

"That's not living. That's torture. If we force him to stay here with us, miserable and resentful, then we're no better than the things we hunt. He just wants a chance to be normal for a while. Who knows? Maybe it's just a phase and he'll come back when he realizes how boring normal can get."

"You don't understand, Dean."

"Then explain it to me."

John considered telling his son about the yellow-eyed demon that wanted his brother but he just couldn't do it. Not yet. "It's not your burden to carry. All you need to know is that we can't protect him if he leaves."

"I get that, Dad, but he's not a little kid anymore. He's a good hunter. I trust him to have my back, and I know he can hold his own. If college is what he really wants, then I think we should give him the chance to be happy."

John had taken to pacing the floor, listening to Dean's words and internally refuting them as quickly as they left the boy's mouth. Why was Dean pushing this? He knew his eldest didn't want Sam to actually leave, so why was he backing the wrong horse? John paused as a thought occurred to him.

"Are _you_ miserable in this life, Dean? Is this your way of tellin' me that you want out too?"

Dean dropped his gaze to the ground. "Of course not. This is who I am and I'm good with that. But Sammy… He's not like us, Dad. He wants something better than daily deaths and destruction and I think he deserves that chance."

"And you'd be okay with that? Lettin' him just walk away?" John purposefully laced his words with sarcasm as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was Dean's father after all and knew him as well as anyone could.

Dean bit his lip for a moment in thought. "No. But this isn't about what _I_ want. Sam has been fighting against this life since he was old enough to say so. At least let him apply and see what his options are."

"Dean, I just…"

"Please. If not for him, then for me. I'm askin' you to give him a chance."

John's anger deflated as quickly as it had risen. The fight left him and he sank down onto the corner of the nearest mattress with a sigh. "Fine. Let him apply to a few schools and see who's interested. But we can't afford college, Dean. He's just gonna get his hopes up."

"He's a smart kid, Dad. If he wants it bad enough, he'll find a way to get it. Let me talk to him and see where his head's at."

Unable to respond past the lump in his throat, John just nodded his approval and Dean was out the door in the next second, Sam's jacket in hand. It was a cold night and he knew his little brother was too stubborn to come back inside after it on his own.

As soon as Dean shut the door, John made his way over to the front window and cracked it open; partially because he was feeling overheated and caged in, but also because he was hoping to hear the gratitude and acquiescence in Sam's voice when he heard John's compromise.

Dean glanced around the dark parking lot, hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother brooding nearby. Thankfully, Sam hadn't gone far. He was leaning up against the driver's side of the Impala; the one place they both felt safe and at home. Dean sauntered his way over and when he was a few feet away, he gently tossed the jacket to his brother.

Sam caught it without looking up. Apparently he found his shoes to be incredibly interesting all of a sudden. "You alright?" Dean asked, concern lacing his words.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. You?"

"I'm good." Silence fell between them for a few moments as Dean mirrored his brother's position, their shoulders touching in an attempt at sharing comfort. Dean broke the silence first. "He's just tryin' to keep you safe. You get that right?"

"I don't need to be babied anymore, Dean."

"I know. But it's kind of a hard habit to break, kiddo. Just cut him some slack, okay?"

"What did he say to you?" Sam questioned, finally looking up into his brother's eyes. "After I left."

"He's willing to negotiate. You can apply to the schools you're interested in and we'll figure out where to go from there once we know what your options are."

Sam swallowed hard and looked away again.

Dean frowned. "Sam?"

"I already applied, Dean," he answered softly.

"What?" Surely, he had heard wrong.

"I got my acceptance letter this afternoon. I made it into Stanford. Full ride."

Dean was stunned. When had Sammy found the time to fill out applications without anyone noticing? Why hadn't he come to Dean for help? Why hadn't he mentioned before that he was looking into colleges?

Sam chanced a small glance back over at his brother and saw the hurt and betrayal in his unguarded expression. "I'm so sorry, man. I honestly didn't think I was gonna get in anywhere considering how often we switched schools growin' up. But my teacher suggested I give it a shot so I did, and now…"

"Now _what, _Sam?" Dean's voice was barely above a whisper.

Sam leaned a little further against his brother, hoping the simple gesture could magically make everything better again. "Now I can be free. Dean, you know how much I've wanted this day to come. I can't keep living under Dad's roof, putting up with his orders, watching you play the obedient little soldier while he's running you into the ground…"

Dean pulled away from his brother's support and lifted a hand to cut off his rambling. "Sam, if you're so desperate to leave, then fine. But don't blame it on me."

"I'm not _blaming_ you, Dean. I'm tryin' to _thank_ you, man. If it wasn't for you, I'd never have made it this far." He meant for the simple statement to come across as a compliment filled with gratitude, but instead it was like rubbing salt into his brother's wounds.

Dean had made it possible for Sam to leave him? How could he have screwed up so badly? How had he not seen this day coming? Why was it suddenly too late to stop it and fix things?

"So that's it then? You're just gonna walk away?"

"It's not like it's going to be forever. I can still meet up with you guys on holidays or even weekends if you're ever hunting in Cali."

"When are you leaving?"

"I… Tonight. I bought my ticket an hour ago."

So this was it. Dean thought he'd have more time. More time with Sam. More time to get used to the idea of losing him. Sam continued to ramble on about how it wasn't Dean that Sam wanted to leave behind, and how he needed his big brother's permission before he left because Dean's approval meant the world to him.

Dean's throat had closed up and he found himself nodding, though he was no longer listening to the words coming out of Sam's mouth and he had no idea to what he was agreeing. He was just numb, inside and out.

After a moment, Sam seemed to realize that his brother had mentally checked out and that his words were no longer getting through to him.

He loved his big brother more than anything and, if he thought Dean would even consider the idea, he would have asked him to come along. But Dean would never leave their father. He was too dedicated to the man, and to the job.

Dean looked so lost as he started to back away towards the motel room and it broke Sam's heart. He never wanted to hurt Dean, but there was no other way. He refused to stay in this life forever.

Sam strode forward quickly and wrapped his arms around his brother, tears streaming down his cheeks in silent goodbye. Dean tried to get his arms to move and return the embrace, but they weren't obeying him any longer. None of his muscles were. In fact, if Sam hadn't been gripping him so tightly, he probably would have hit the ground by now.

John had seen and heard enough. He remembered what it was like for Dean after Mary had died. The four year old had been withdrawn and barely spoke aside from responding to orders and the occasional lullaby to Sammy when he thought no one else was listening. John knew in his heart that losing his brother was going to be a hundred times worse. Dean had more or less raised that kid, and now he was just going to walk away.

He stormed out into the parking lot with his youngest son's bag in hand and Sam instinctively turned to block Dean from his father's wrath with his own body. John grabbed Sam by the collar of his shirt and jerked him backwards, breaking his hold on his brother who slumped to his knees the second his support disappeared.

John turned and shoved Sam further across the parking lot and away from Dean. "If you want to go so badly, then go. But if you leave, don't bother tryin' to come back."

"Dad, I…" Sam gasped as soon as he regained his footing, unsure how serious he should be taking his father's threat.

"No more excuses. No more fighting. You think you can find a better life for yourself without your family, then by all means. It's just one less mouth to feed around here." He tossed the bag at Sam's feet. "Take your crap and go."

Sam took a step towards Dean but John held a hand out to halt his attempt. "Leave 'im," he barked, not wanting Sam to draw out the goodbye any longer than he had to because he knew it was killing Dean inside with each passing minute.

"Take care of him," Sam demanded with an underlying threat, sending one last apologetic look past John to Dean.

"Your brother will be fine. You worry about your own ass." John spun on his heel and headed back towards the motel room. "Come on, Dean. Get back inside."

Sam turned sadly, unable to bear the sight of his brother obeying yet another order as if he were a mindless drone. He bent down, picked up his bag, and started to walk towards the nearest bus stop. Panic flooded through Dean as he watched his brother walk away.

With a monumental effort, Dean forced his legs to support his weight and stood back up. Only instead of heading to the room as his father had instructed, he stumbled his way across the parking lot till he reached Sam's retreating back, grabbed his arm to spin him around, and drew him against his chest in a bone-crushing hug.

Sam let out a huff of surprise as the air was squeezed from his lungs, then dropped his bag in favor of clutching the back of his brother's shirt.

Dean's big brother radar was going off and he knew there was one last thing Sam needed from him before he went off into the real world. "It's okay, Sammy. I get it. You deserve to be happy and I want this for you. Just promise me you'll be careful."

Sam let out a sob of relief that was muffled by Dean's collar as he clutched him tight enough to crack a rib. "I p-promise," he sniffed, tears streaming down his face once again.

"I'm proud of you, kiddo." Dean moved one hand to the back of Sam's head, his fingers sinking into the soft mop of hair Sam refused to cut only because it pissed their father off. "Call me if you need anything. And I mean _anything_, got it?"

"Yeah." Sam pulled back far enough to dry his face with his sleeve. Only then did he realize his big brother's eyes were red-rimmed too.

"Take this." Dean pulled a small wad of cash from his back pocket and held it out to Sam who shook his head.

"Dean, I don't need…"

"Just take it, bitch. In case you run into trouble along the way."

Sam took it with a small smile. "Thank you, jerk." He stuffed the money into his own pocket, then looked back up into Dean's eyes. "I'm really gonna miss you, Dean."

"I have that effect on people," Dean smirked back, needing to see his brother's smile one last time instead of his tears. He succeeded. But then Sam's expression turned to sad concern.

"Are you gonna be okay, man? Last thing I wanted to do was stick you with Dad and throw all the weight of hunting onto your shoulders."

"Sam, stop. Dad and I are gonna be fine. We'll do what we do best, and you go be a nerd like _you_ do best." Dean winked with a forced smile. It was getting harder to keep up his façade.

Sam snorted. "Yeah. I can do that. Take care of yourself, big brother. I'll try to stay in touch."

Dean nodded, but he knew the last part was a lie. Sam would get engrossed in his new life and would want to keep it separate from his past. He was going to cut them out, probably for good. But if that's what it took to make the kid happy, Dean was willing to suffer for it.

Sam picked up his bag again and walked away, glancing over his shoulder once to engrave one last image of his brother in his mind so that he could keep Dean with him over the next few years. Dean waved and waited until Sam was out of sight. Then he sunk to his knees in the middle of the parking lot again, the final vestiges of his strength leaving him.

The pain in his chest was crippling. He knew John was watching from the doorway still and he wanted to hold it together for his father but his emotions were too overwhelming to contain.

He didn't know how long he sat there, shattering to pieces, but he jumped when a strong calloused hand landed on his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Come back inside, Dean. It's cold out here."

SPNSPNSPN

John could remember how terrible the next few months had been. He had to remind Dean to eat, force him to sleep, and resigned himself to the silence that fell over them. The worst part was patching his son up after each hunt. It almost seemed like Dean was seeking out the punishment, looking for a pain worthy enough to overcome the one in his heart.

The separation had been more than hard on the boy, but he pulled through just like he always did. John had caught him holding his cell phone from time to time as though hoping it would ring, but for the most part, things slowly went back to normal between them.

There was _nothing_ Dean wouldn't sacrifice for his brother, even after Sam had left and practically destroyed him. John used the palms of his hands to wipe away the moisture that started welling up in his eyes as the memory abated. He had never seen his son so devastated. So broken. And yet Dean managed to survive. If that didn't prove how strong he was, nothing would.

John's walkie-talkie crackled to life, jarring him back to the here and now. He mentally shook himself. They had a job to do, and it was time to get back to work. Enough reminiscing. _Couple finds a body in the street, everyone's missing by the time the cops get there… That's our vampires alright._

He stood quickly and tapped both of his boys on their ankles, jostling them enough to wake them from their slumbers. It felt like old times, having Sammy back in the fold, and Dean being the buffer between them. John just wished Dean didn't always have to put everyone else's well being ahead of his own.

John's stomach flipped at the thought of the added weight he would one day have to drop on his eldest's shoulders. If he couldn't save Sam… But that was a problem for another day. For now, he would just let his son enjoy the comfort of having Sammy back at his side.

They filed out through the motel room door together. A family again. For now.

THE END

So sorry for the incredibly long wait! I had some personal issues to deal with, which ultimately destroyed my muse for a while but hopefully it's back now and the final chapter was worth it!

Please review, and I will try to get another chapter for my Dark Angel story up soon as well. Thank you all for reading and for your continued support! It's been a pleasure, as always.


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